


Entr'acte

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, I am terrible at summaries!  Jim is injured, Simon is worried, Blair is, well, his usual amazing self</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entr'acte

## Entr'acte

by Lace

Pet Fly might own them, but in my heart they have always been mine!

This is my second posting. Thanks so much to all who had kind words to say about Lullaby! Especially to DM, who sent me oodles of encouragement and provided sound advice, and to my dear friend, Sharilyn, who found the missing "I"! Now all I can do is sit back and pray that somebody out there will get some enjoyment from this one!   


Extra warning: Jim is pretty uncommunicative in this one

* * *

"..and make it _fast!"_

"Hey, Jim, just hang on, man. Stay with me. Hang _on."_

Damn! He can't hear me. He's.. "Jim?" 

Oh shit, he's.. 

_Jim!_

Jim's eyes have rolled back in his head. And his hands are so cold. God, his skin is like ice. 

Where the _hell_ is that kid? His cell phone's not answering. God, did I tell him to stay in the truck? 

How in hell am I going to... 

"Jesus, Sandburg! Where _are you?"_ He'll never forgive me. The kid will never forgive me. And I'll never forgive myself.. 

If Jim.. 

Don't go there, Simon. 

Believe me, you don't want to go there. 

_Damn_ you, Jim. I told you to _wait._ Christ, I did better than that - I _ordered_ you to wait. But you had to jump him. You just had to jump the bastard, didn't you? And now. Now my best man is down, and his partner - who has got to be freaking by now - is nowhere to be.. 

"Blair is on his way, Jim. You have to hold on for Blair." 

You are coming aren't you, Sandburg? 

_"Sandburg!"_

I can't just sit here and watch my friend bleed to death. 

Jim, don't do this thing. You can't do this to me. And I'll kill you myself if you do it to.. 

God, I have to try something. 

Now concentrate, Banks. 

What is it the kid always says? 

"Jim, I know I'm not Sandburg, but I want you to listen to the sound of my voice. Just listen to my voice. There is nothing but my.." 

God, I sound like a third rate hypnotist. This is not gonna work. This is never going to work. I don't know how to do this. Hell, I'm not his damn Guide. But Blair isn't here, so what else can I do? 

I at least have to try.. 

_Focus._

That's it. We both have to focus. 

Okay. "Jim, listen to me. Now I want you to focus. Try and focus on the words, on.." 

No, no, that's all wrong, too. There's only one point of focus that will work for him. 

"Hear me, Jim. You have to focus on _Blair."_

Goddammit, Banks! What about your hands? You know he always does something with his hands. But what does he do? And how does he... 

Think, man, _think!_ You've seen Sandburg do it. Hell you've seen him do this out in the field at least a half dozen times. 

Okay, then, try this. Place one hand on each shoulder. Now lean in close. No, no, make it closer, you have to let him feel that you're here, that you're with him, so move in as close as you possibly can. 

That's good. Now try and synchronize your breathing. 

God, _is_ he still breathing? 

"Sandburg! Dammit!" 

I've called for backup, I've called Cascade General. I know that the ambulance is coming. But what if it's too late? What if it's all too late? 

And Jim... 

_No._

Remember Simon, that's the place where you don't want to go. 

Oh, thank God. That's good. That's good. At least he's still breathing. Now if I can... If I can just.. Goddamnit, Ellison, you weigh almost as much as a full grown grizzly! "Easy, now, Jim. Easy, man. I don't want to hurt you. Let's see if we can roll you just a little bit more to the side and.." 

There. That's better. At least his airway is clear. 

The ground. Look at the ground. There is so much blood. Why is there so much.. 

_Christ, the whole fucking sidewalk is covered in Ellison's blood!_

Get a grip, will you, Banks? 

"He's coming, Jim. I promise you, Blair is coming. And the ambulance is on its way, so for God's sake stay with me. _Dammit,_ Jim, _listen!_ You have to think of me, too. Do you have any _idea_ what that partner of yours will do to my ass if you quit on me now?" 

Stop it. You're babbling Banks, and you don't have the time. You have to keep him breathing. You have to keep him safe. For your own selfish reasons, of course, but most importantly for Sandburg. 

You have to keep him safe for Blair. 

"It's gonna be fine. Just hold on to my hand, Jim. Hold tight to my hand. I don't give a rat's ass if you break my damn fingers, I promise, no matter what happens, I won't let you go." 

That's one hell of a promise. Are you sure you can keep it? That wound is still bleeding and... 

..Jim's hand has gone limp... 

.and, _Shit!_ I can't feel his... 

"Jesus! _Sandburg!_ Oh, _Jesus!_

I make a grab for Jim's shoulder. Oh, that's good, Banks, that's smart. What were you planning to do, shake the poor guy into listening? 

Sandburg, _please._ Where are you, kid? 

Jim needs you _now.._

Hell, _I_ need... 

* * *

_Hands._

Gentle hands ease my own from their grip on his Sentinel's shoulders. 

"Simon? ..Hey, Simon, it's Blair." 

Blair... 

He sounds so serene, so incredibly calm. Like the midsummer flow of a long lazy river. Just how does he do that? How can he be so damned tranquil? When Jim.. When I.. The blue eyes warm briefly with unspoken thanks as Blair moves me aside and takes his place by his partner. 

Where he belongs. 

Where he's always belonged. 

Now he's focused on Jim, entirely centered on Jim - but that is a given - sometimes I think Jim's the only damned thing in his whole world that matters. It's not up to me now, there's nothing more I can do, so I sit there in silence. Watching. Waiting. 

Knowing only that we're all out of time, that I am holding my breath. 

"Hey, Jim. It's me, it's Blair. Shh, Jim, it's okay. I'm right here. I've got you, Jim. Hell, just look at you, man! _Geez,_ that's gotta hurt _bad._ But you're gonna be okay, Jim, because I'm here to help you. But you have to listen to me, okay? Because I can't do this without you. I need you to help me, too....so listen closely, man, because this is important.. First of all, before anything else, we've gotta dial back that pain..." 

It all sounds so simple, but it isn't the words. Well it's not just the words, it's the way that the k.. that Sandburg delivers them. It's like some kind of magic. No, not even 'magic'. That word suggests tricks and illusions and this is for real. 

Thank God, this is blessedly, undeniably real. 

Sandburg has been here for less than a minute, yet I swear to God that it's already happening. I can actually see Jim responding. His breathing has definitely improved and there's a faint hint of color coming back to his cheeks. And as for the pain, those harsh lines of pain that were etched on his face, they are visibly fading, easing away as the minutes go by. 

I can only see the two of them now. One prostrate, one kneeling. Blair is murmuring softly, but I can no longer distinguish individual words. 

It's strange how the whole world feels empty. 

The hubbub of traffic, the blood on the sidewalk, the straggling crowd.. 

They are, all of them, gone. 

Every one of them. 

Gone.... 

* * *

"Simon? Hey, talk to me, Simon." 

..Simon, it's Blair. 

..Hey, ..talk to me, man. Shit! You're _scaring_ me here! 

_Simon!"_

Blair? Did he say his name was...? 

What's happening here? 

"Sandburg? _Jesus,_ Sandburg, where the hell is that ambulance!" 

"It's cool, man. I called 911 and they said that it's coming. Captain, hey, you look a little peaky...you really okay?" 

Yeah, kid, I'm okay. Of course I'm okay. Forget that Jim nearly died. Forget that I've been living in terror for the last half hour. Our backup still hasn't come, and as for my head.. 

Hell, my whole head is pounding, 

And there's something else that I have to remember, but it just isn't there. 

It just.... 

..isn't... 

"Hey, Simon, what's wrong with your..." 

"Oh _Simon!_ Oh, _man!"_

With a swift fleeting glance back at Jim, Blair vaults from his side and slides to his knees on the sidewalk beside me. One hand lights on my shoulder and before I can open my mouth to protest the other swoops down and encircles my wrist. His hand is smaller than mine - should be weaker than mine - yet I can't seem to shake it. It is strong, like its owner, and just as determined - so sure of its ability to stall me that the other takes courage and creeps up to probe gently at the base of my skull. I flinch away from the contact, but can't fathom the reason. And when I finally look up I am captured and held by those startling blue eyes. 

And they are filled with concern. 

But it's Jim who's in trouble, so why is he staring? Why is he staring at... 

..me? 

"I'm fine, Sandburg." I manage to croak. "but what about J..?" I turn my head and grind abruptly to a halt, inexplicably nauseous. 

If I should try to say more... 

"Simon, Jim is okay." 

Blair's gaze holds so steady that I cannot look down. I feel his fingers drifting over my scalp, lightly touching my skin, but can't summon the least inclination to balk or defy them. "Jim is gonna be fine, man," he reiterates softly, and the aura of calm, the gentle wave of reassurance that accompanies the words makes me strangely light-headed. I breathe a sigh of relief and put a hand out to.. 

He stops my hand in mid-reach. 

"Don't move," he warns, quietly, infinitesimally shifting position, reinforcing the caution with the slightest of pressures from the hand at my wrist. I don't quite understand why but his voice holds conviction and I know I can trust him. 

After all, this is Blair. 

He knows I have questions, but for now he ignores them, hard at work with those fingers, soothing each point of contact with consummate skill before he gently moves on. 

And he keeps right on talking. Doesn't even slow down. And his voice sounds so...different. It bears no resemblance to the circuitous kind of chatter with which he regales me at the station. This sound is a comfort, its tone pitched so low, so...balanced...so even, that a casual observer might almost be forgiven for thinking it prayer - excepting, of course for the surge of idolatrous pride that creeps into his voice whenever the subject turns to Jim. 

I wonder if he knows? 

If _Jim_ even.. 

"..I mean, like, it was touch and go for a while there, but Jim is so strong, man, and we worked our way through it. Simon, Jim will be fine." 

How do you know? I want desperately to ask, I need desperately to ask. How the hell do you do that? But I know there's no point and even if there was, I couldn't begin to form the necessary words. Not when my whole world is spinning. Hell, even at my best this kind of thing is way beyond my comprehension, this thing that exists between Sandburg and Ellison. The Sentinel thing that has grown over time between Jim and his 'Guide.' 

Those fingers have shifted. This kid and his hands. It's almost as if they are two separate entities, symbiotically bound. A graduate student. Who would have believed it? He has the voice of a priest. And the touch of a healer. 

I'm beginning to... 

"..isten Simon, you've done all you can, and you really did good, man. But now it's time, it's really okay to let him go. Jim's just resting now, Simon. You have _got_ to believe me.. 

..Dammit, Simon! Can't you hear what I'm saying? Jim. Is. Going. To. Be. Fine." 

Jolted back by the thread of alarm that has entered his voice, I blink and stare at him blankly. His eyes catch at mine and our gazes move down until they both come to rest on Jim Ellison's arm. I can hardly believe it. Five fingers on deathwatch. My hand is still locked like a vice around Jim's and I stare in amazement. There are deep indentations where my desperate fingers have imprinted their mark into his wrist and his palm. 

So I did keep my promise. 

I _did_ keep my promise. 

I disentangle them carefully and withdraw my hand with a long, weary sigh. 

Blair echoes it softly. "You did the right thing, man. Hell, you were his lifeline. It's thanks to you Simon, that Jim's still alive." 

Thanks to... 

So now who's the rookie? I catch my breath for a moment, feeling just like a kid getting praise from his captain for the very first time. 

God, this kid is impressive. Just look at Jim's face. It is utterly peaceful, and that very same peace is reflected beside me in those tired blue eyes. 

And the young anthropologist? The hyperactive observer? The impertinent kid who makes light of procedure almost every other day? 

How do I reconcile them? How can I ever hope to reconcile the two? 

And why the hell should I even try? 

Blair slumps, spent, to the sidewalk. His face is gray with exhaustion yet somehow those eyes have already recovered their lustrous shine. Intercepting my glance, he tilts his head to one side, and shoots me that crazy Sandburgian grin. I can scarcely draw breath, but I grin back in answer. 

And for an instant, I feel it. 

A sense of connection. 

We're networked. 

On line. 

And now at last the goddamned ambulance is here. 

With infinite care he relaxes the grasp he still has on my wrist and hauls himself to his feet. 

Time to move. 

I make an effort to join him. 

"No, Simon - stay _still,_ man." 

He brings his other hand down to my shoulder and squeezes it gently. And though he says nothing more the rest of the message is perfectly clear. This, too, is important. I might not understand why, but I know that expression. I have no strength to argue and I know in my heart that it's useless to try. The best I can do now is go with the flow. I close my eyes in surrender. Blair nods to himself and he half straightens slowly, before reaching behind me to brush at Jim's cheek with the back of his hand. 

Then Sandburg is running. Shit! That kid moves like lightning. Yelling like a banshee he covers the ground like a fleeing impala, that tangle of curls caught and tossed by the wind, flying free in his wake. 

And I am alone. 

But not really alone. Because the warmth and concern that is Sandburg, those things that define him, still linger behind. 

All at once I remember my promise and stretch out my hand to keep vigil on Jim. 

And the universe slows... 

Somewhere off in the distance I hear a babble of voices and it's no great surprise to find that the loudest of all belongs to Sandburg himself. The kid is in overdrive, pumped up to the max. And although I can hear only fragments of words and the occasional half sentence, the urgent instructions, the pleading reminders, and the not-so-mild imputations, are all too familiar to my laboring ears. 

"and no pain medication..." 

"..he's allergic to..." 

"..and please be _careful_ with him, man!" 

I feel a sudden empathic rapport with two bewildered young men. 

In a flurry of movement Jim is swiftly assessed, carefully lifted aside and borne away on a stretcher. It's as if Jim is weightless, they take him so easily into their arms. All the way to the ambulance Sandburg hovers beside him, leaning in closely, one hand on his chest with its fingers splayed wide, giving whispered instructions that only his partner could possibly hear. 

I should be there too, and, forgetting my promise I struggle to rise, but my body rebels and my head.. 

_God,_ my.. 

"Oh, _geez,_ Simon, _no!"_

Blair is back in an instant, breathing hard with exertion. "Simon, what were you _thinking!"_ He drops down to one knee and peers into my face with those anxious blue eyes. 

"You're going in with him, Simon." 

That sounds like an order. 

"Sandburg, dammit! What the hell are you saying? " I try to get to my feet but my damn legs won't hold me. "I'm staying right here." 

"Right here on the sidewalk?" A low chuckle escapes him. "No, man, I don't _think_ so." He clamps his hands firmly down on my shoulders, and his expression is grave. "Hear me, Simon. Don't you _dare_ try and move." 

And now I remember. Now I finally remember why. There was more than one bullet - in fact _I_ took the first. No wonder Jim jumped him. It sounds stupid I know, but somewhere in the midst of the excitement I've forgotten somehow. 

My teeth are beginning to chatter and I'm suddenly freezing. 

"Hey, Simon?" Blair says, very softly, carefully tightening his hold. 

"What, Sandburg?" 

"Thanks again, man. This means a lot to us both. I just need you to know." 

"Hell, Sandburg...."No, Banks, don't you do that. To play that old game at this juncture would be, well, it would be.. disrespectful. No, you can't do that now. Not after today. Not when you consider what happened between us. 

What did happen betwe... 

Well, whatever that was.. 

So, get it over with, Simon. 

"Uh.. anytime, Sandburg. After all, Jim's your partner. And Sandb.. uh, Blair? I want you to know. You're one hell of a.. Damn it all, Sandburg! You know what I.." 

He's not even listening! 

Here I am, lying here, baring my soul and he's not even.. 

"Over here," he calls, scrutinizing my face with a clinical eye. 

Hell, maybe it's better this way, when all's said and done. 

Jim must be settled. The Emt's are behind us. I can hear them conferring in low urgent tones as they're crossing the street. 

Blair looks over his shoulder. "Hey, Eddie, this is my Captain. His name is Simon. Simon Banks." He tilts my head carefully. Christ, his fingers are trembling. "Oh, this really sucks, man. Oh God, this looks _bad.."_

A large burly arm reaches down from behind and wraps itself around my shoulders. A new voice intrudes: "Hi, Simon, I'm Eddie. Let's see what we can do to get you a little more comfortable here." 

Blair releases my forearms, gets up to his feet and steps sideways to give them some room. 

He is suddenly smiling. 

"They'll look after you, Simon. Just do what they say. I'll be waiting right here." 

"Sandburg... _wait.!_ ..Blair!" 

Calm yourself, dammit! Breathe deeply! 

"..Blair, I know you mean well, but you don't understand. There are things - things that need to be done.. Damn it all, Sandburg, _procedure..."_

Sandburg just shakes his head. "Forget about it, Simon. That is _so_ not important. Just let them help you to the ambulance, man." 

"Sandburg! _Listen!"_

"Don't stress on it, Simon. You'll have to trust me on this one. I've spoken to Joel, and Dietrich and Simmons? They're already rolling. I put those two witnesses into a cab - they're on their way to the station. I've got Jim's keys, I've got both of your weapons and I'll be right behind you. It's cool, man. It's all taken care of. It's handled, okay?" 

You've.. 

Sandburg just grins. 

God, that grin is contagious. 

"Hey, Captain, remember? It's just standard procedure. And, hell, you know me, man, I _live_ by the book.. 

..in fact," he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial level, "..if I you have any doubts, I strongly suggest that you contact Naomi. I know that it's a little too long and just a tad unwieldy - and it's kind of unusual, so I don't use it every day, man. But it's a family heirloom and Naomi gave it to me herself. 'Good ol' standard procedure' - hell, that's my middle _name."_

This is insubordination. The kid is positively gleeful. I should chew him out. Hell, I _will_ chew him out! 

But right at this moment the whole world's a blur and I can't even see him. 

So I'll just have to wait.. 

..until I can find.. 

..a more.. appropriate.. 

..time... 

* * *

End Entr'acte by Lace: wobbinhood@ihug.com.au

Author and story notes above.

  
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